Poetry

Happy National Poetry Month!

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Mulling

 

Is it outside myself, whatever I reach for

or will I find it by seeing what I already hold in my hands.

Recognizing raw and real and rock solid the substance

and courage to climb the next hill and the one after that.

 

It is what I have–the choice to be on fear’s leash

or turn and drag fear behind me, trembling

with every step forward. Looming failure is a facade

full of hot air. Terrifying beforehand, but

 

once I’m there, facing him, I only need acknowledge his presence

and he deflates, shrinks down until I fold him up

and put him in my pocket with the others.

Or, depending on the day, simply step over him and walk on.

 

©2018/Kim Zimmerman/All Rights Reserved

 

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Mystery and Poetry, Two Constant Companions

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Since my seventh birthday, I have pretty much been addicted to mysteries. My mom’s friends, Pat and Judy, gave me a couple of Nancy Drew mysteries that year and my mind was opened to the scary, thrilling, who-done-it genre and I’ve never looked back. Sure, I’ve read some disappointing ones full of boring characters or convoluted plots that made me yawn, but, overall, I’ve found mysteries to be soothing and reassuring that no matter what is wrong in the world, by the end of the book, the odd little detective will have solved it and I can go to sleep confident that right triumphs.

I received Louise Penny’s latest book, Glass Houses, as a birthday gift this past year and I just finished it on Sunday. Her series is a little bit cozy, but only on the edges. It has all the depth of a novel, because she goes deep with her characters and most of them carry on from book to book. If you haven’t read her books yet, this is the year to give them a try. Three Pines is an imaginary village outside of Montreal, full of lovable, quirky people that you will want to read more about. No matter what evil they come up against, the townspeople live their unique lives and pull together when they’re needed. This story has to do with a hooded figure showing up in Three Pines, the drug trade in Montreal, and, of course, a murder. That’s all I’m saying. Read it for yourself and let me know what you think.

The other genre I’ve always kept close to me is poetry. I’ve got a poetry book or two going at all times…and so should you. Poetry is for everyone. If you don’t think so, maybe you need to keep looking. Mary Oliver, anyone? I just finished reading (again) Everything Is Waiting for You by David Whyte. Do you ever get days where life seems too much? Where emotions are overwhelming and tears break out for the smallest reason? Maybe it’s my Italian blood, or because I’m an HSP/ INFJ, or because I’ve been through lots of change in my life the past few years, but this happens often. On those days, I read poetry. Something elegant, simple and deep that speaks to the heart of sadness, the edge of elation, down to the bottom and all the way to the top of the emotional gamut. Thank you, David Whyte for breaking open your soul and writing down what spills out. I suggest you, dear reader, get one of his poetry collections and let it sink in. You need it, I’m telling you.

So, what are some of your favorite genres? What are you reading right now?

Song of a Captive Bird (Book Review)

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When I requested this book, Song of a Captive Bird, by Jasmin Darznik, from NetGalley, I knew I’d be in for a reading adventure. I know nothing about Iranian poets, past or present, and not much about Iranian history or culture. Because this was about a poet from Iran, Forugh Farrokhzad, who was also a woman drew me to it–that and the title. The book read a bit like a movie, opening with a mysterious and violent scene that became clear as the story continued and the cultural traditions and expectations were explained.

As it takes place in the fifties and sixties, in a land very far away and different from my own, there was much to be discovered about the way people lived and thought about life in general, and about women, in particular. Forugh suffered at the hands of men–her father, her husband, her lovers, and a male-dominated publishing industry. Her suffering marked her, but her resilience and independent spirit shaped her into who she became. Again and again she defies cultural expectations and pioneers a path for herself and women after her with the words she writes, her work in film, and the way she lives. The poetry that is woven into the chapters is exquisite; I savored the lines and felt closer to the woman whose story was being told.

In addition to learning a bit about Iranian women struggling to become respected and independent during that time period, I learned something of the struggle for Iranians to own their oil and of the violent political turmoil of those days. To me, Forugh is a symbol of progress, of the artistic voice that speaks in every culture and time period, and of every woman working toward being respected and heard with equality.

Reading this book stirred up a desire to read Iranian poetry, of which I am unfamiliar. If you’re like me and know little to nothing about Iranian history and culture, and particularly, Iranian poetry, then I recommend you read this story and start your own journey of discovery.

*I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review.

 

Day 25: Dracula and Ukulele Duets

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The highlight of today was that my kids came over. I saw their faces, heard their voices–what they said or didn’t say. They ate dinner at our table, jumped in surprise at the Halloween bowls that snatched at their hands and laughed at the red-eyed Dracula rising from his coffin, screaming and cackling while scary music blared in the background. After dinner, Ella did homework and Judah and I played Canasta with Alan. Judah won! Then he and I went in the library where he took up residence in my hammock swing while I played “In the Bleak Midwinter” on the ukulele. Then I gave him one ukulele, I picked up the other and we played together. Judah’s so musical I knew he’d pick it up right away and he did. We played “House of Gold” by Twenty-one Pilots and the Brother Iz version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. So much fun!

Do you ever evaluate your day and look for a common theme? Here is a rambling poem-ish for today.

If I held up my hours like precious beads

clear, opaque, shining, rough

unique, ordinary, startling, dull

and wondered what held them together

my heartbeat and breath, here as long as I am

my emotion, hot and quick like lava or cool and dark as a cave

and all the nondescript in betweens, what would it be?

It would be me–all of those facets found

at edges of tears and full blown smiles,

frayed, tense times as well as moments light and tranquil.

My thoughts, feelings and what I do with them

Giving or withholding grace, kindness, help, a listening ear.

Moving with another’s mood, finding where the pauses are and holding the silence

living the uncertainties and sadness, bringing encouragement to a downtrodden soul

being myself and loving out, loving deep, loving into and through

the things I’d rather not remember and what I’m most proud of

there is an art to being alive, to being. So I will keep being me.

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